


be careful making wishes in the dark

by eddiewrites307



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dark Ending, M/M, Mild Gore, Murder, Murder Husbands, Slightly graphic, Will Finds Out, but then goes dark, corpse origami, fun times, i can't tag much without spoiling, one of the darker things i've written tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:00:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26713354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddiewrites307/pseuds/eddiewrites307
Summary: When Will discovers the real identity of the Chesapeake Ripper, Hannibal offers him the chance to kill him.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 15
Kudos: 34





	be careful making wishes in the dark

Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter were doomed to coexist from the moment they laid eyes on one another in Jack Crawford’s office.

Will, in the eternal words of Bedelia Du Maurier, a “righteous, reckless, twitchy little man”. He had always been damaged, always been broken, always been separate from his peers. He did what he could to stay on the path of normalcy, but it truly was a lost cause, wasn't it? There was something wrong about that man, and it was easy to see.

Hannibal Lecter was an artist to the highest degree, effortlessly fitting into high society and gathering people under his thumb on a whim, using his charm and poise to convince everything that there was no monster lurking underneath the mask, no beast wearing an ill-fitting person suit. Hannibal Lecter, the debutants would gossip, what a man. 

Yet, Jack introduced them, and they slotted into place beside one another with the sort of perfect fit one would associate with soulmates if one believed in such a thing. Hannibal took Will under his wing, guiding him further into the darkness that his mind held deep in it’s beautiful depths, all under the guise of putting him back together. Will allowed himself to be melded in God’s image, in Hannibal’s image, letting surgery-scarred hands to break him down entirely before building him back together in his highest form. He wasn’t entirely aware of what was happening, yes, but that was simply because he refused to look.

But then he had no choice.

“You-you killed them,” Will stammered, backing up quickly. Hannibal advanced on him, face carefully blank, movements precise and deadly. “You killed them all, you’re, you’re  _ him _ , you eat people, oh my god, you-you’ve fed me  _ people _ , you -”   


“My Will,” Hannibal interrupted, horrifically rude of him, Will thought incoherently. “My Will, you must breathe, you’re working yourself into a panic attack.”   


Will laughed, just a little too maniacally, a little too brokenly. “Oh, yeah, a panic attack is totally what I’m worried about right now, totally not the fact that you’re within reach of a knife block and could probably kill me before I could draw my gun, that’s not a concern at all.”   


Hannibal, without breaking eye contact, reached for the knife block. When Will froze in fear, not drawing his gun nor moving to run, Hannibal grabbed the largest knife -- sharpened more than it had any right to be -- and slid it over to Will.

“I will not kill you,” he said slowly. “I have put far too much work into you to kill you now, my Will.”

“Work?” Will asked weakly.

Hannibal tilted his head. “Do you not feel it rushing through your veins as we speak? The bloodlust, the calm that so often evades you. Can you not imagine slitting my throat, bathing in the spray as God bathes in the blood of his worshippers?”

And God help him, Will did. He allowed his hand to wrap around the handle of the knife, even as Hannibal moved closer. Slowly, slowly, not being stopped, Will lifted the knife, marvelling at how it felt in his hand, and pressed the tip of it into the softness of Hannibal’s stomach.

“I could kill you,” he said softly. “Call it self-defense. End the Chesapeake Ripper. I’d get a commendation, no trial, not unless I make a mess. I could do it.”   


“Yes, you could,” Hannibal said, just as soft. He leaned forward, and blood blossomed on his shirt, starkly red against the pure white. “But will you?”   


Will stared at him for a long time before he made his next move.

~   


Will stood over the strangled corpse in front of him, a petite woman with flaming curls, watching in a sort of blank removal as Hannibal’s calm voice instructed him on his next step.

“Carefully now, run your blade along her stomach, avoid the organs. We’ll want those for later. If you’d like, take a section of the meat along her back -- I have a lovely recipe in mind for this one.”   


There was blood on Will’s hands, so much blood, staining his skin and gathering under his stress-bitten nails and covering everything in red, red, red.

Will smiled, looking up at Hannibal with bright eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered, and Hannibal smiled back, a benevolent god.

~   


“Will, there’s been new bodies,” Jack’s voice came through the voice, brusque and impatient. “We need you in?”   


“New bodies?” Will feigned concern. He caught Hannibal's eye, and Hannibal winked. “You only call me in for the weird ones, Jack, what makes them weird?”   


“It seems the Ripper had an admirer.”   


~   


“He wants to be seen,” Will murmured, eyeing the body of Freddie Lounds that he himself had put there with mock distaste. “This is a gift, an offering almost. Freddie wrote about the Ripper all the time, this person wants to hurt her in his name. The sacrificial lamb for slaughter.”   


Hannibal stood next to him. No one had acknowledged his presence yet -- he was always with Will these days. Will could feel the silent amusement radiating off of him.

Will turned to Jack. “The Ripper has an admirer indeed,” he said, forcing himself to frown. “There will be hell to pay when the two of them kill together.”

Jack gave him a weird look, but said nothing.

~   


“The hell to pay has come,” Jack said grimly from the phone at five in the morning, the sun having yet to rise, two weeks after Freddie. 

Will blinked wearily, rolling over to shake Hannibal awake. After last night’s hunt, the two had toppled into bed together -- inevitable destruction, with beauty laying in its wake. “What hell is there, Jack?”   


“Corpse origami is apparently all the rage with these two,” Jack said, sounding both amused and disgusted by his own wit. “Three bodies, all dismantled and skinned and forced into the shape of anatomically correct hearts. They’re propped up at an altar, Will.” The disgust in his voice grew thicker. “He’s courting the Ripper. Do you think he knows?”

“Courting the Ripper,” Will echoed, not asking what Jack meant by knowing, looking at Hannibal with soft eyes. Yes. He was courting the Ripper. “Give me a second to get dressed, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”   


~   


“You don’t have to go in,” Beverly Katz intercepted as Will walked up to the church. “We all know the last few weeks have been rough, we can cover for you.”

Will frowned at her. What was she talking about? “I’m fine, Beverly,” he stated with a furrowed brow. “I’m just as usual.”

Hannibal, from beside Will, placed a warm hand on his shoulder and said nothing.

Beverly frowned at him. “You know you can talk to me, right?” she said gently. “Even about the crazy shit. I’m a good listener.”   


“I’m fine,” Will said again, pushing past her gently. Whatever she thought was wrong with him, it would probably be smart to play up to it later. Poor, broken Will Graham would never be capable of such dastardly deeds, he’d never be suspected.

He walked up to where Jack was waiting by the human origami -- Hannibal had found the term detestable, but Will thought it was hilarious -- and stopped, making a face of disgust.

“It’s definitely courtship,” he told Jack. “You can feel the obsessive love radiating from it. We’ll have the Rippers answer to deal with soon, likely tomorrow. He’s always been punctual.”   


And there was that weird look from Jack again. “Will,” he said hesitantly, the same way he did whenever forced to face Will’s broken mind. “The Ripper’s dead. He won’t be responding.”   


Will frowned, looking from a blank-faced Hannibal to Jack. “What are you talking about, the Rippers dead? No he isn’t.”   


Jack looked at him the same way you might look at someone who was threatening suicide. “You killed him, Will,” he said, as gentle as Jack ever got. “Hannibal Lecter was the Chesapeake Ripper. You found out, you killed him with his own knife when he turned on you.”   


Will blinked, mind coming to a halt. “No, no I didn’t,” he said with a conviction he didn’t feel. He turned back to face Hannibal, but he wasn’t there. Where did he go? “He’s not dead, he was just here.”   


“No one’s been here, Will.” Jack gestured to someone behind Will, but Will didn’t catch it, still looking desperately to the spot where Hannibal had just stood.

No.

No.

Hannibal wasn't dead, he couldn't be...

_No_.

**Author's Note:**

> My poor little fucked up baby Will, how I love tormenting you


End file.
